


God and Monster

by KarasuNei



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bruce is a Kraken, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Fluff, M/M, Mention of Bob, Mention of Domino, Mention of Thor, Mermaid Universe, Merman!Peter, Pirate!Wade, Slow Build, The Boxes are dicks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7310839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarasuNei/pseuds/KarasuNei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God and Monster

**Author's Note:**

> A small, light fic for a rainy Sunday afternoon :)
> 
> [White]
> 
> {Yellow}
> 
> Enjoy!!!

               Wade Winston Wilson wasn’t just a simple pirate. He was Captain of the notorious  _ Deadpool _ , whose sails were feared throughout the Seven Seas yes, but he was no ordinary Captain either. It was difficult to tell underneath all those scar how he once looked like. His terrifying disfigurement and crude, mad sense of humour were not the only reason Captain Wilson stood out from the crowd, but also the rumours surrounded him. The man was cursed, one could hear his crewmates’ whispers,  _ unkillable _ and for members of such a nefarious ship to speak so, it must hold some ounces of truth.

You see, on the _Deadpool_ , anyone and everyone got a shot at being Captain. Or got a shot _at_ the Captain, same difference. This one rule ensured that the vessel would only be run by the strongest and smartest, to make certain that her legacy would live on. And lived on she did, in the ruthless hands of Captain Wade Wilson. The Captain was reasonable with his crew, less one strayed out of line. A bullet to the head would be merciful, the longest-surviving members would tell you so. Wade Wilson was a good leader, someone you might banter with like an old friend, but he tolerated no bullshit. All may challenge him for his position, but all that had were all that failed, for the Captain had taken fatal damage and still walked. A knife to the heart, a bullet to the brain, you name it. They even saw the Captain chopped off his fingers for fun and games, said digits would always reattach themselves and heal within seconds.

They said Wade Wilson was a cursed man, immortal yet butchered until he was no longer human. That his heart was a dark void that could only be filled with pillage and murder. The shore he walked was avoided like plague, and his own crewmates feared him. And Captain Wilson did nothing to quell those rumours, rather, he encouraged it, because rumours were the start of a legend.

As dark and evil he might be, Wade Wilson wished to go down in history somehow, so that humanity would never forget what he was.

A Monster.

* * *

 

Peter was different. He knew he was different since he was born. Not only his family, but his people hung onto his every word like he was a God, even when he was just a child. Peter never understood why, until the day he turned five and his parents were lost to an unfortunate quarry with a neighbouring clan. The ocean raged for weeks after their bodies were sent home, in shreds and cold.

Peter was an Oracle, a revered figure of power for the Mer.

For an Oracle to be born was a rare occurrence, which only happens in a few hundreds of years. Even to a people whose life circle was eternal that still was a long time, and there had always been less than a dozen of Oracles to be birthed and exist during the same period of time. They were the Voice of Nature and the Tempest of the Sea. They were Guidance and Wisdom. The last of the Sea God’s blood. They were groomed to become the rarest of jewels and most precious of treasures.

And Peter was one of them.

At first he didn’t know what to do with his title and privileges. Attention made him uncomfortable, and he opted to hide away when it became too much for him. But his markings were different, royal blue with thick contrast of crimson, black web-like markings that shimmered in the dimmest of light, surrounded by ombre red -blue caudal fin. The luminescent freckles of scales dusted his pale skin, his body lean and powerful even though he was smaller than the average mer of his age. The length of his tail was longer than many and his eyes were a golden-brown instead of an ordinary silver or black. He stood out no matter where he went.

Peter was a beautiful creature, with a voice gifted only to the most talented sirens and powers unbridled. Yet his people treated him like glass, wishing to shadow and shelter his every step.

“One day, it will be your turn to protect them, Peter.” His late beloved Uncle once said, “With great power comes great responsibility. And your responsibility right now is to learn how to control your powers, so that you may fulfill your destiny.”

And so Peter did, attending the ritualistic meetings every few decades and stayed under the tutelage of a stern older Oracle named Natasha. Peter supposed the red-haired mermaid was likable enough, someone he could speak to on a normal basis. The young Oracle did not have friends like the kids his age, for he was a living legend, someone untouchable and sacred. All his young life, he only ever remembered being close to his family and his pet, and now his tutor.

Peter was a lonely thing, placed upon a pedestal and worshiped despite his dismay. He had all one may wish for, yet sometimes, he wished his own people would forget what he was.

A God.

* * *

 

When you had lived on the sea for as long as Wade did, a storm was a mere occupational hazard. A storm of _teeth_ , however, wasn’t something one would see everyday.

The Captain Wilson had laughed when the bumbling fool of a lookout screamed “ _Kraken_!”, passing it as the man had had too much to drink. But Wade realised belatedly that, in fact, Bob _didn’t_ drink. _At all_. Wade was pondering on how that could be possible for a pirate of all profession, when the entirety of the _Deadpool_ shook violently. When the Captain rushed from his cabin to the deck, lo and behold, the ship was grasped in a mass of writhing, massive tentacles, malicious teeth gnawing in their suction cups. The monstrous creature was tearing the ship apart and while Wade Wilson still charged into the nearest mount of slimy flesh with sword and gun blazing, it was already too late. The magnificent _Deadpool_ , 287-ton with three mats, Nightmare of the Seven Seas, was torn to scraps in a matter of minutes. Five solid minutes. And the sun was fucking shining too, like it was so bloody happy about this turn of event.

Before Wade lost his consciousness to the ruthless waters, he distantly remembered hearing a melodic voice, echoing from the depths in the most soothing of songs. He didn’t even think, asking “Why are you so sad?” but only bubbles of precious air escaped, and he finally succumbed to darkness, the voice the last thing in his mind.

* * *

 

“Bruce!! What have I told you about attacking random things?!” Peter screeched, waving a hand frantically at the Kraken’s massive eyeball. Said Kraken happily waved a mat of the destroyed ship around, his purrs of joy sending powerful waves everywhere. Peter batted away a toothless tentacle that tried to pull him over for a hug, glaring.

“Oh no, _no_ you don’t mister! Poseidon’s beard, now Nat is going to complain for a whole moon circle about how _we_ littered at her favourite grotto! When it’s _your_ fault!!!”

Bruce grumbled happily, as usual not taking in a word Peter said, and prodded pieces of the wreckage so they would spin in the water. The young Oracle facepalmed. The Kraken was arguably a good and loyal pet, but he could be so _dumb_ sometimes…Exasperated, Peter prodded the huge beast with his trident to gain some attention, “Just go gather… _fetch_ the wooden pieces. Take them to the Canyon.”

The Kraken waggled his tentacles in pure excitement. Fetch! He liked that!!! And promptly grabbed everything within _arm_ reach into a bundle, rumbling happily. Peter sighed and with an elegant flick of the tail, propelled himself into the deeper reaches. The humans whose bodies sunk to the bottom had all deceased. The Mer were respectful of the dead no matter what species and despite of being wary towards land-walkers, Peter spoke a quick prayer to send their souls to the afterworld. He then gathered the corpses to where Bruce was, tied them all together with a bit of rope he found, and let them go down with their ship.

Peter hoped Natasha wouldn’t notice this since no-one is around, which was rather far-fetched, because the older Oracle was sharper than a swordfish’s edge. Anyone else wouldn’t have a thing to say about his or his Kraken’s action (which honestly annoyed him more than it should) because of what Peter was. The young Oracle made a few more laps around the area, either collecting bodies or directing his Kraken to pick up the wreckage. There were still bits and pieces that the waves had scattered further away, but Peter couldn’t exactly search every crevice of the reef within the day. It was getting late by the time the merman deemed the area acceptably clean. He would have to have to return later and if someone, most likely Natasha, noticed anything, he’d just have to _improvise_.

On his last circle pass the corals however, Peter paused in disbelief. How could he have missed this entirely the first few times? 

            At first glance, the young Oracle couldn’t tell that the shape was really human, the red second skin, even if torn beyond repairs, it wore blended too well with the colourful surroundings. The creature’s lower half was stuck between two rocks, flopping bonelessly in the water. What baffled Peter most was this creature’s skin. The rough texture felt like scales of sort, but uneven and far softer. With his brows furrowed, Peter pried the strange creature out of where it was stuck. It did have two legs like human, two arms and a well-defined body, but it didn’t look much like one otherwise. Its eyes were closed and there was no bubble coming out of its nose or mouth. It was dead like the others, Peter concluded, and half dragged, half shoved the body out, muttering about bloody Krakens and their tiny brains…

The sudden grab was definitely unexpected, and Peter let out a strangled yelp at the death grip the creature had on his arm. The startling blue eyes shocked him, and Peter flicked his tail to bash the creature away. No air came out of it still, as it flailed about weakly before going limp once more. Gathering his wits, Peter realised that this strange being was in fact still alive, despite unable to breathe for so long.

Oh, he was _so_ going to catch Tartarus for this…

Holding the creature by its hard waist, Peter broke both of them through the surface and swam towards the small island, keeping the creature’s head above water. In his mind, the young Oracle could only think about how many ways Nat was going to _kill_ him…

_ If _ she ever found out about  _ this _ development, that was…

* * *

 

Being what he was, Wade had to hone his senses to a complete perfection. Even after being cursed, his reflexes were still top-notch. One thing he had learned after all these years was that immortality or no, staying unconscious was equal to being at people’s mercy. And that was the one thing Wade hated most besides his own miserable existence.

With what was left of his strength, he lashed out of instinct. But his weapons were gone, probably during that treacherous attack. Wade stilled after a moment, his brain slowly catching up to the blurred sensations and the feeling of being alone, washed up ashore somewhere. With the soles of his bare feet digging into sloppy water and his hands full of sand, the Captain coughed out lung-fulls of salty liquid and bile. Out of all causes of death, drowning would definitely be among his top five of most inconvenience. His entire body felt like fucking led, and all senses took so long to respond. His eyes were blinded by the sun, his ears muddled and his throat burning. So he lay there, arms outstretched, half expecting seagulls to start pecking on his ruined skin, and waited for his body to somewhat recover. The only consolation was that the voices in his head had gone quiet while his brain was knitting itself back from being scrambled. 

            How did it come to this? They just had a good raid on a rich European trading ship, the supplies would have lasted them for months and the gold ingots would have kept them filthy rich for a long while…

Alas, fate was a flicker mistress and shit just happened, as his despicable old man would say. A few more moments of staying still, pondering on how fucked up this day was, Wade decided it was due time he picked his ass up.

Honestly, after everything that had happened and would be happening in his life, Wade Wilson didn’t doubt that he was hallucinating. He had to be, because the creature before him was too lovely of a sight to behold upon waking up, instead of the usual bad breaths and crooked teeth of his crewmates. This one stood, no, _arched up_ upon his long glistening tail, large golden brown doe eyes staring at Wade quizzically. And the pirate again found his lungs unable to function. Yeah, sure, his ship just got attacked by a fucking Kraken, but _this_. A mermaid ( _merman??_ ) sighting was only legendary and, despite the numerous drunken stories he had heard, Wade didn’t know anyone who had actually met a Mer. Legends differed from one another, and if Wade was indeed _not_ hallucinating, then the real thing beat any kind of high tale.               

The voices went haywire in his head and Wade realised that he had been gawking.

[Holy mother of shit!!!]

{Is it edible? Because we’re fucking famished, that’s what.}

[Shut up. Do you even fucking know what this is?!]

{A fish. And fish are food.}

[Fish are _friends_ , not food. Oh wait….]

“You have spider web patterns. I’mma call you Spidey.” Wade blurted out and automatically clapped a hand over his big fat mouth.

[Nice going there, genius…]

{You just potentially scared off our only source of food. If your ugly mug hasn’t done so already.}

To the creature’s [Merman!!] credits, he didn’t run away. Instead, he tilted his perfect head of soft brown hair and furrowed his brows. And shit, he could _pout_ …

“Spider? What is this Spider creature you speak of?”

Aye. Wade was dead. Both his heart and brain just melted. Not only the beautiful creature {Food!!} spoke his language, but he also had such a voice that made Wade turned into absolute putty. All the fucking rainbow-puking-worthy tales were true! Must be so pathetic of him, but Wade could only stare, his usually loud mouth stiffened and refused to work, drinking in all the details of this merman like he was stuck on board for weeks without fresh water.

“ _I wonder if that hair is as soft as it looks_ …”

{Can live without all the sappiness. Kay thanks.}

[He _is_ pretty though. And _pretty_ is an understatement.]

For once, Wade found himself agreeing with White. Not just the absolutely to-die-for face, but the smooth, pale body peppering with tiny scales here and there, hidden muscles under the lithe form, the exotic coloured tail and the way he expertly held a trident in his webbed fingers... _Hrrrgn_ …

{Oh noes, I think our brain just died. Again.}

[Shut _up_!]

Wade, whose entire system had tuned out, finally noticed that the merman was talking again [That vooooooooooooooooooice…We can drown in that voooooooooooooooice…] and struggled to focus.

“ _What_ are you?” Wade immediately cringed, but the melodic tone was simply curious and yeah, _fuck_ , that cute lil’ quirk of the head would definitely kill him off for good, “I have never seen such a species. Are you, by any chance, a reptile? Because you did not breathe underwater when I pulled you up and you do not seem to have gills.”

Wade coughed. If this had been _anyone else_ , he would have strangled him with bare hands. But the merman sounded so very genuinely perplexed, inclining here and there to look at the scarred pirate with tentative wonders. And _holy shit_ , he just got _saved by a merman_ …First attacked by Kraken, now _this?_ This was like a sailor’s wildest imagination coming true!

{Pretty sure this is all happening in our heads.}

[Technically just _head_. Also you should really shut up before I murder you.]

{Well, smartass, we’re all immortal, plus you can’t kill a disembodied voice!}

[You are not disembodied! You’re literally inside a mad man’s head!]

Wade grunted as the boxes bickered, straying further and further away from the topic. Running a hand on his bald scalp, the pirate sat up, wincing at the feeling of fatigue. With a sigh, Wade looked up at the merman and slowly extended a hand towards him. The mythical creature [Not so mythical now that you are looking at him, dumbass!] raised an eyebrow.

            For a moment there, Wade worried that he had fucked something up. He didn’t foresee the reaction for sure, when the merman returned the gesture, but turned his palm so it hovered above Wade’s, his long, smooth fingers lightly brushed the inside of Wade’s bumpy wrist. If he was into one of those steamy novels Neena liked, he would have sworn there was a spark spreading through his entire body as they touched. The pirate’s breath hitched, and he still held out his arm like an idiot even after the merman had retracted his limb.

Swallowing, Wade’s voice still came out hoarse as he attempted to speak, “The name is Wade. Wade Wilson. Do you have a name, baby boy?”

[The fuck’s with the nickname?!]

“Peter.” The merman answered after a moment, looking quite confused.

{Peter? _That’s_ unexpected…}

[Told you he’s not food!]

Before Wade could say anything else, or in any case, embarrass himself any further, there was a deep, rumbling conch sounding in the distance that had Peter turning around. The movement revealed sharp-tipped ears under all that unruly brown tresses and the black-blue ridges of dorsal fin on his proud, straight back. The merman listened for a moment, and then gave Wade a concerned look.

“I must depart. Uh…” Peter hesitated, brushing back the stray strands of hair that fell over his eyes {Yep, we’re dead.} “There should be sweet water within the greens and fruits to sustain you. Uhm…Harmony to you, stranger.”

With one last concerned look, Peter dove into the sea in one swift motion, transparent crimson fins glittered in the late sun before completely disappearing under the rumbling waves.

Wade sat there, dumbstruck for long moments, before slumping back down, groaning.

He was _so fucking dead_.

* * *

 

As predicted, Natasha was extremely grumpy when Peter returned, grousing and grouchy for the rest of the week. Thankfully, it was for a different reason from what Peter had feared. The annual meeting with the Oracles Council was coming up, and everyone knew to tip-toe around the moody mermaid. Of course, when the time came, Peter’s mentor smoothed all her sour attitude and expression into a mask of cool indifference within seconds, and regally lead their ensemble to the Atlantic ocean.

Peter was never quite sure how he felt about these gatherings. The rituals to praise the Gods, thanking the Oceans for yet another age of peace and prosperity, had been interesting to watch and participate, but Peter had an inkling feeling it wasn’t the real reason the Oracles wanted to meet up. The rituals only needed two Oracles, and they barely lasted half a day. No, it was the banquets after that had them all attending, where all the gossips split free from all corners of the sea.

            The older, more experienced Oracles like Natasha had a duty to visit different clans in their regions, giving blessings and helping with political matters, thus conveniently giving them plenty of stories to tell. From important peacekeeping debates to whose son was going to marry whose daughter, and so on. Nothing escaped the eyes of an Oracle, mainly because there was so little to do in certain places, and then some with too much. 

            In the past decade, the Northern Twins, Wanda and Pietro, had come of age and were given permission to their first journey without an older Oracle’s supervision. Naturally, they were excited to share their tales with whoever willing to listen. And that whoever would be Peter and Loki, young enough to be attentive and curious, yet old enough to pitch in valuable inputs. Especially Loki, who was always interested in talking smack. As for Peter, well, he was honestly only here for the food and the chance to hang out with some people who weren’t either Natasha or his Aunt. Besides, other than Pietro’s cringe-worthy jokes and Loki’s oozing sarcasm, they were a decent bunch. Best of all, they all more or less understood each other’s circumstances.

            It was also great to see so many rare colourings to gather at one place. Natasha’s tail was jet black with two striking lines of luminescence blue trailing from her shoulders all the way down her tail, the same colour of the scales covered her chest. Her caudal fin was transparent and wispy, like squid ink dissipating in water, a contrast to crimson pelvic fins that matched the fiery colour of her curls. 

            Pietro and Wanda both had the same glowing white markings that ran down both their sides. Pietro’s colouring was sleek, a steel blue-grey for his back that transitioned smoothly into faded black at the tip of his tail. The scales on his front were snow-white and fine like sand, every fin on his body was sharp and provide the littles resistance against water as possible. His sister provided a pleasant contrast against his bold schemes, with varying degrees of red from scarlet to burgundy and back to fuchsia. Billowing fins and luxurious jewels adorned her, mostly pearls and rubies, making Wanda pale blue eyes stood out whimsically. 

            However, when it came to uniqueness, Loki took the prize. He possessed luminescence pale blue skin only native to the tribes of far South, with traditional tattoos etched onto every inch of scale-less skin, even on his face, framing his blood-red eyes. His tail was a deep green marked with stripes of solid black akin to a sea snake. Sharp, fanning fins were ombre green-to-gold or dark teal-to-emerald. The Jötunn Prince and Oracle also weaved gold strands into his dark braids, donning heavy golden armours with emerald and ruby accents to emphasis his heritage. 

            There were a few others to name, but Peter didn’t know them as well, like T’Challa or Carol. Those were the older Oracles though, and they did prefer to mingle with those at their own age.

“It is so great to be able to travel now!” The joy in Wanda’s voice made her accent thicker, “Solving problems on our own can be challenging, but definitely a great opportunity to learn!”

“I’m more interested in the different food.” Pietro deadpanned and snickers when his sister glared at him.

Being born as an Oracle alone was celebrated, but if your twin was also one? Wanda and Pietro were practically living legends among an already fabled race. It came with problems though, like how neither could function well without the other. Their powers and emotional states were greatly affected if they were too far apart. But a miracle was still a miracle, and wherever the twins went, they got showered in attention. And then there was Loki who was born into royal blood. However, unlike the others, he thrived in all the attention he received. Still, Peter had heard enough from everyone to know they had the same problems with being coddled like delicate flowers. Complains were common from the younger generations, while the older Oracles just didn’t seem to care, having gone through the same phase.

“…So Thor has been asking about you, Loki.” Peter looked up to see Pietro leering at the Jötunn Prince with a shit-eating grin, “Care to share why?”

“That oaf thinks he is more than his worth. And he is unworthy of my time.” Loki answered haughtily with an upturned nose. Roaring with laughter, Pietro started his usual barrage of teasing and, to every assault, Loki had a sarcastic remark to clap right back. Used to this silliness, Peter and Wanda simply sat on the side, watching the snarky exchanges like a mildly entertaining sparring match.

“So, want to tell me this new adventure of yours?”

Peter bit back a groan. _Flipping telepaths…_

“I heard that.” Wanda’s pale blue eyes were mischievous as she nudged Peter with her elbow, staring at the younger Oracle expectantly. With a long suffering sigh, Peter quickly recalled the event to Wanda, knowing that at least this one wouldn’t be running her mouth. While Natasha knew about the shipwreck, Peter wasn’t too sure about her knowing there was still that one survivor Peter saved. He still had hope though, especially since the island wasn’t hit by a _cleansing_ tsunami yet (yes, Nat did that once, which scarred little Peter forever.) 

            Peter hesitated from telling Wanda about the human however, but since she was a telepath, she certainly had already known. He definitely didn’t expect the reaction though.

“That’s amazing, Peter!” the Scarlet Oracle clasped her webbed-hands together in excitement, “I have never met a land-walker before! And now you have this one trapped on the island all for yourself! Makes a good pet, no?”

Peter grimaced, “I already have a pet. His name is Bruce and he is fat. He also brought this down on me in the first place.”

Wanda giggled, but sobered up immediately after, “What are you going to do with it?” 

            A frown scrunched up Peter’s entire face. He had been asking himself the same question. He hadn’t come back there for the last ten sunsets, too afraid of Natasha finding out and, above all, not knowing what to do with this “Wade” creature. Peter had to admit, he was curious, but was it worth the risks?

Silence stretched on, only punctured by Peter’s numerous distraught sighs. After a while of listening to her twin poking fun at a detesting Loki, Wanda gave her friend a soft smile and placed a hand on Peter’s elbow, “I am sure you will find your answer. You are an Oracle after all.”

Peter didn’t know if that was the answer he wanted to hear.

* * *

 

For all of the scrapes of integrity Wade had left, he didn’t believe any of his crewmates to survive the encounter. And none of them did. Wade had wandered the small island for days and found no-one. There weren’t many pieces of debris washed ashore either, doing a poor job of convincing Wade if the attack happened at all. But, if Wade was honest with himself, he would admit that his roaming on the beaches had nothing to do with trying to find any survivor or some tools to get him by.

Even as he managed to build a poor, make-shift shed behind the first row of trees, Wade still found himself wandering at the edge of water. Of course, the voices didn’t neglect telling him every time his mind strayed towards the thought of golden brown eyes and soft chestnut hair that, yes, it was all just an illusion. Something Wade’s addled mind made up while he was recovering. But Wade could still hear it, the beautiful voice, melodic even as _Peter_ spoke. It danced at the back of his head whenever he caught himself longingly looking out to the ocean in hope of catching a glimpse of flickering tail. Well-over two weeks had passed, or something like that, if the marks he made on the shed’s walls were anything to go by. It was getting difficult to keep track of time, as days rolled by lazily and no sight of Peter appeared over the horizon.

Disappointment had never been an unfamiliar taste in Wade’s mouth. So he brushed his longing aside ruthlessly and tried to keep what was left of himself afloat {Nice pun.} Fresh water wasn’t a problem and wild fruits grew in abundance around the small island. Wade hadn’t seen much of anything else living here but fish, some birds, more fish, a snake that he accidentally stepped onto, and bugs. Without many tools, doing anything was a struggle and he could honestly make-do without Yellow’s complaining about the lack of rum. It took some creative braiding and lots of bleeding fingers until he finally had a few shabby fishing rods. Well, not until the end of the third stranded week made from vines and twigs that _finally_ didn’t snap under pressure. But hey, better late than never, right?

By then, Wade had to shed his thick Captain coat, the beating sun and steaming sand made him sweat so terribly, and trotted around only in his tattered pants and shirt that was completely torn at the front. It wasn’t like there was anyone here to stare at Wade’s skin condition anyway and, while he couldn’t die, Wade didn’t appreciate being steamed either. He was stranded in the middle of nowhere and would probably never see civilization again unless he managed to build a boat from scratch. There was no rush, however. For now, he had enough resources to survive on. Some booty action was painfully mission, but that need wasn’t so vital that Wade would die for it. Such a shame though, wasting all of this romantic scenic settings without any common wench around. Not that there was should be anything romantic between the buyer and the seller to begin with, but hey, girls liked that shit and Wade was bored out of his mind.

At the beginning of the fourth week, Wade went fishing, all the while listening to White and Yellow yelling at each other, for whatever goddamned reason this time. It wasn’t an abnormal occurrence by any chance, but it was getting progressively worse as Wade had nothing else to focus on but the damn voices in his head. Fishing seemed like the best option to distract himself. Still it wasn’t enough, considering the most vital part of the activity was to sit still and _be quiet_. 

            Times like this, Wade kind of miss having a crew. Not only he needed help building a raft or some shit to get out of this godforsaken place, but their stupidity often overshadowed the  _ noises _ . 

{Let’s face it, they would kill each other first before being stuck together, much less with _us_ on a tiny raft for fuck knows how long.}

[Unfortunately, I must agree with dumbass over here.]

{Thanks, finally someone who-… _Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey_!]

Wade snorted, lack both the energy or interest to bicker with the boxes. With feet dangling over a rock, he swung the fishing line as far away as he could. Patience had never been one of his strong fortes, and he soon found himself wiggling his toes in the water. In his defence, since there was no bait or whatsoever, the fish might just bite his flesh instead, which would still be a win in his book.

“You shouldn’t be fishing here.”

Wade wasn’t going to lie, he startled so badly he fucking slipped into the water, failing haphazardly. The merman, _Peter_ , at least had the decency to look guilty and, _oh gods_ , he was holding Wade up! Wade felt like he was dreaming.

            Nope, he  _ definitely was _ dreaming. 

            Even with his ruined skin, he could feel the defined muscles and the unexpectedly sharp roughness of the scales pressed up against him. There was a slight sting on Wade’s fingertips as they accidentally brush across the dorsal fins, just enough so Wade realise that he wasn’t unconscious.

{How can you tell? Our dreams are usually very vivid.}

Vivid or not, Wade found himself uncaring at that point when Peter brought him to the sandy beach and cast an assessing glance over him.

“You are bleeding.” The merman stated and made to grab Wade’s hand. The electrifying feeling took his breath away. Instinctively, the pirate flinched and pulled his hand back, only to immediately feel like shit at the wide-eyed look Peter gave him. Clearing his throat, Wade attempted a grin and showed the merman his fingers.

“Don’t worry, baby boy. See? It’s already healing.”

Those golden-brown eyes widened. Peter leaned closer to inspect the scratch, making Wade’s heart hammer so hard it might just break his rib cage.

“Fascinating!” There was pure wonder in the merman’s melodic voice, and _shitshitshit_ , _little Wade_ was getting way too excited here. Fucking hell, there had never been anyone that could look at him without the limited range of emotions from fear, disgust and pity, even his crew. And here he was with this absolutely gorgeous creature, whose hair was finer than the silk carried by Eastern merchants (Yes, he purposely brushed his cheek against those tempting strands as they swam, hang him), face that could make angels sob in envy and a voice more beautiful than any vocalist Wade had ever had the chance to know, who looked at him without a shred of revulsion or terror. Instead, there were an open curiosity and a true fascination that tied a knot in his throat.

{Hey White, I think our meat bag here is falling in love with what appears to be his imagination.}

[We just got cut. This is no hallucination.]

{Uhm yeah, we heal pretty fast if you haven’t noticed and there are too many scars to prove this happened at all later on. So good fucking luck.}

“What kind of magic is this?” Peter’s voice cut through the haze in Wade’s mind, pleasant like a cool afternoon wave and silenced the boxes. Wade’s throat went dry at the smile he was being graced. The bloody Captain of the most notorious pirate ship on the Seven Seas _flustered_ , embarrassed like a wet-nosed adolescent.

“It’s no magic, sweetums. Just…me.”

[…]

{Wow. Mind = blown. You’re so fucking underwhelming it’s painful to watch.}

“So you have fast regenerative powers?” It shocked Wade how nothing he said or did detereds Peter. If anything, the merman seemed _impressed._ “I know a few of our kind have such powers, but it takes them many waves to heal a scratch and _moons_ to regrow a limb. You must be revered amongst your people.”

Wade couldn’t help it, he gawked openly at Peter. Even the boxes went quiet for once. This one was just full of surprises, wasn’t he?

“As revered as it can be, I suppose.” He couldn’t keep the grimace out of his voice, prepared to listen to either the merman or the boxes’ jeering, and was promptly taken aback when Peter sighed in _actual bloody understanding_.

“It is difficult.” Peter confessed. Okay, Wade was _sure_ that they were speaking in _completely_ different context here, but didn’t have the heart to tell the merman so when he brightened up, “But it is impressive, if I do say so myself. If I had such ability, they wouldn’t nag at me so much for being reckless.”

Wade was so torn between wanting to kill these people who nagged at Peter or scolding the merman for being reckless. Neither of which Wade could explain _why_ he felt so. He didn’t know what to say either, not to this topic, but he didn’t want to waste this precious chance of speaking to Peter either. 

            Though, Wade had to admit, sitting here staring at Peter coiling in the gentle waves wasn’t a bad thing to do regardless.

{The sap, the saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap! Kill me now!!!}

“So, why did you stop me from fishing back there?” It was better than nothing, right? And it was a neutral enough subject that Yellow wouldn’t be able to bitch about.

Peter’s nose wrinkled up adorably, “It’s just…nobody from my clan knows that you are here. I don’t think they would react well to a land-walker being here and might do something drastic.” He paused, blushed and then confessed with a shy voice, “My…uh, pet attacked your ship. So it is my fault, to an extend, that you are stranded here. I should take responsibility for my actions, even if _I_ did not initiate the assault in the first place. Bruce can be rather… _enthusiastic_ sometimes and he is easily excitable. I am training him to be less _playful_ and actually listen to command…”

The merman trailed off, looking oh-so very young, and Wade’s brain just stops functioning altogether. 

            To sum it up, Peter was trying to protect  _ Wade _ from his own people, because he felt obligated due to the dumbshit actions of his pet, which was apparently a Kraken named  _ Bruce _ , and Peter was actually afraid that  _ Wade _ would be mad at  _ him _ . Ludicrous! Okay, maybe  _ a little _ because it was still his  _ fucking ship _ , but…This was both so confusing and cute at the same time, Wade just didn’t even know where to start.

“Uh, aye, that’s all good and all, but I still need to eat, ya know?”

[…Sometimes I wish I have actual hands so I can fuckin’ slap you in the face.]

{Can’t say so better myself.}

But, once again to his astonishment, Peter immediately smiled, and Wade never loved his pants so much for being baggy than at that very moment, “Oh, do not worry! If you just wait there, I shall supply you with enough to survive!”

Before Wade could make any noise of protest or just _grab a hold_ _of Peter so he wouldn’t leave_ , the merman sprung into the waves and disappeared. 

            What  _ an ass _ , though. If one can call that delectable backside ass to begin with, but holy Davy Jones’ Locker,  _ boooootay _ !

{There goes our imagination.}

[That’s no imagination, asshole! But our dumb meatsack has just probably let Petey-pie slip through our fingers for good with his cringe-worthy conversationalist talents.]

{Either way, he’s stupid as shit.}

[Agreed.]

Wade groused and kicked a pebble into the water out of rage, only to have the boxes insult him some more. At times like this, he just wished he still had a fucking gun, put a bullet into his brain, and got some moments of blissful silence, even if it would be short-lived.

The thought made Wade pause, the voices faded into the back of his mind. Why was he so bothered? The merman was definitely pretty, something out of this world, but why did Wade have such a yearning to see him? They only met twice so far and Wade still wasn’t even sure if Peter was just another illusion, something his desperate mind made up to cope with reality. Would he want to do this to himself? To long for those golden-brown eyes and soft skin against his only to be disappointed in the end? And, _gods_ , even if Peter _was real_ , then Wade wasn’t even sure how they could _get down to business_. Plus the chance of such a magnificent creature _wanting him_ that way appalled Wade himself. It was just not possible and it made his anger roar.

Just as he contemplated running head-first into the nearest rock, that beautiful head of soft tresses emerged from the water, a blinding grin showed off his white and slightly pointed teeth. Peter looked like a child about to reveal his mischief, his radiant innocence made Wade’s black heart throb painfully, and offered the scarred man a net satchel full of fish.

“I’m not sure what kind of fish you can eat.” Peter spoke both timidly and excitedly, showing Wade all his catches, “So I got one of each. Would this be acceptable?”

Wade’s throat went dry. The boxes were silent once more.

They spent some time sorting out the fish, some of them were either poisonous to human or not edible. It was a feat of strength to render Wade speechless, much less his boxes, yet Peter managed flawlessly, just with his pointless sweet chatter, and that kind smile directing at Wade alone. 

            Blood, gore, insults, fear…that stuff Wade could deal with. But tenderness was something he had never experienced and thus so afraid of screwing up. He didn’t want to be crash, not with such a sublime creature, and without his crude humour, Wade was simply awkward. Yet, as they continued talking, it was clear that Peter was curious in just about anything Wade had to say, no matter how stupid it might sound to the pirate’s own ears. They were from two different races after all, and sometimes the most normal routine for Wade would be something completely out of Peter’s world. 

            Exhibit no.1: Fire.

They had moved to the rock where Wade had been fishing by then, Peter’s tail dangling in the water as he peered at the crackling flame with wonder. Wade had to stop the merman from touching the fire a couple of times, not wanting those beautiful fingers burnt, and explained to Peter that humans must “cook” their meal in order to not get sick.

“So this _fire_ will _cook_ your food?” Peter cocked his head to the side, watching Wade slowly spin the skewered fish in rapture, “ _Oh_! The fish is changing colours!”

Wade grinned, prodding the fish with his bare finger. Peter was leaning so close, his arm brushed against Wade’s, without the reservation often found in other humans and, most of all, without disgust at the state of his skin. The merman smelt of the ocean, but also fresh like the air after a storm and a distinct sweetness that Wade couldn’t quite place. The soft, unruly strands of brown hair tickled his shoulder whenever Peter turned to look at him, a wide smile on pink lips, and Wade wanted nothing other than dive in and have a taste. Yet he held himself back, not wanting to scare baby boy away.

“I must ask.” Peter’s voice turned serious, just like every time he decided a question is of utmost importance, making Wade’s grin broaden, “What is this second skin you humans put on? When I found you, you wore this red flowing skin thing. And now you are not. What is the purpose of this skin thing?”

Blinking, it took Wade a second to understand what Peter was talking about. His chuckle made the merman incline his pretty head quizzically. A warm, fuzzy feeling that was both foreign and somewhat familiar spread through Wade’s entire being, “It is called clothing, Petey-pie. We wear them to protect ourselves against the weather and for…modesty reasons. Humans get offended easily if they see other humans naked.”

That got Peter put on his thinking face for a moment, before looking down at himself. Golden-brown eyes turned up to zero in on blue, and Wade’s breath caught in his throat.

“Am I considered offending to you?”

“ _What_?! No!”  Wade’s answer was immediate and perhaps a bit too loud. The thought of Peter getting all covered up in ridiculous human attires was _outrageous_! His outburst made the merman blink and, for a moment, when Peter looked down to ponder, Wade thought that _he_ had offended baby boy somehow. But then Peter lifted his head again and there was a small smile to his lips.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you look better without this _clothing_ thing.” His voice was so solemn and honest, Wade’s brain stuttered to a stop. This wasn’t the dirtiest thing he has ever heard by any chance, being a pirate and all that shit, but coming from that mouth…

            Holy shit, he did die and went to heaven, didn’t he? But then again, who the fuck in their right mind would send  _ Wade _ of all people up there? If Peter didn’t sound so serious and innocently honest, Wade would have devoured the cute little merman. And that hadn’t even factored in the fact that Peter thought  _ Wade _ looked good…This was far too wild of a dream, even for Wade, and he instinctively dropped his hand down to his belt to draw his sword, wanting to stab his guts out.

But his weapons weren’t there and Peter didn’t give him a break, “May I?”

Dumbstruck, Wade stared at Peter’s webbed hand, open-palmed and hovering just a few inches above Wade’s chest. Throat dry, the pirate could only nod numbly and tensed as the cool, smooth fingers glad tentatively across his pec. Peter was gentle, his feather-light touches curious but fearless, lingering about the bumpiest, ugliest scars and carefully mapping out Wade’s destroyed skin as if he was some kind of delicate treasure. 

            Wade wasn’t  _ just _ turned on as fuck, but he also was at a loss of what to do. He seemed to feel that way a lot with Peter around, not only because the merman was something that came straight out of legends, but also because of how he had been treating Wade. As the silence between them grew, so did Peter’s boldness and he was pressing his entire hand against Wade’s hard defines of muscle, marvelling at the roughness and the different texture of his skin. And  _ fuck _ if this wasn’t the most fucking sensual experience Wade had ever had in his long fucking immortal life. The exploring touches were now travelling back up on his abs, crossing Wade’s breast where Peter lingered just a few seconds longer to feel the man’s rapid heartbeats against his palm, then onto his neck and smoothing over his muscled shoulder. Peter’s gaze followed his hand, and Wade’s breath finally dies in his chest when the merman cupped his marred cheek, where his adventure ended. Peter’s smile was so tender, Wade felt his heart shattered and then knitted itself back together.

“It is very nice. Like a good mixture of scale and leather.”

The hand fell away. Wade didn’t know what fucking got into him, but he immediately chased and grabbed those delicate digits in his much larger, cruder ones. Peter blinked, but he didn’t break Wade’s grip and, for minutes that might have spanned into an eternity, they simply sat there, content to be lost into each other’s eyes.

It had been the smell of burning fish that broke the spell.

Hastily, Wade pulled away and yanked the skewer off the fire, yelping as it seared his fingers a little. The fish was completely black. Scowling, Wade prodded his late lunch with a stick, peeling off the skin, and was somewhat pleased to find the inside still white. Hissing at the steam, Wade broke off a chunk and tore off a little bit with his teeth. Happy with how it tasted, he carefully blew onto the rest of the piece, making sure it was cooled before offering it to Peter. The merman had been patiently watching on the side, and inspected the fish chunk for a moment before _eating it right out of Wade’s hand_. Even under all those scars, Wade’s skin acquired a nice shade of lobster red.

“This is very strange.” Peter smacked his lips together thoughtfully, unknowing of the state he left Wade in, “The smell is very different and the texture is strange, too. I still prefer the…raw meat, though.”

Even though he didn’t participate, Peter kept Wade’s company for the rest of his meal and Wade found out that _Peter could quip_. His jokes were a bit cheesy, but smart nonetheless, though some Wade didn’t really get. Soon, Wade became more comfortable, and bantering with Peter was a lot less awkward. The pirate made sure to mind his languages and be most attentive to answer the merman’s questions though, sometimes burning his mouth in haste of speaking. 

            Time passed in a blur, and Wade was in total bliss, for Peter’s attention was on him and him alone. But then the sun began to set, casting a golden glow on the merman that made his tail shimmer, and the sigh Peter gave Wade was almost  _ regretful _ .

“I must go, Wade.” He touched the pirate’s elbow gently, “It has been very lovely spending time with you.” He paused, looking shy again, “Would it be too much to ask if we may do this again?”

The answer should have been “ _Are you crazy??? Hell to the fucking yes!!! Can you take me home_???” but Wade cleared his throat and scraped together all shreds of his self-control, giving the merman a decent smile, “It would be my pleasure, baby boy.”

Peter’s beaming grin was more radiant than the sun itself, and he leaned in before Wade could react, rubbing their cheeks together for the briefest of seconds before pulling away, “I will see you later then, friend Wade!”

He slipped away into the water, emerged a couple of moments later after Wade had scrambled over the edge of the stone, and waved at the man ashore before disappearing, taking Wade’s heart with him to the sea.

* * *

 

Their meetups became a routine.

After their second encounter, when the fuzzy feelings went off, Wade almost ran himself off a cliff because he was stupid enough to _not_ ask how and when they were going to meet again. He was grouchy and snarly for two whole weeks until he got to see Peter. When he _did_ , Wade couldn’t help himself but rushing over and enveloping the startled merman in a crushing hug, before being able to calm down and let go sheepishly. They made sure to set up dates since then (Wade’s heart soared at the word “dates”) and tried to meet up every other week. Of course, Peter was the only one busy here with all the responsibilities he had, and Wade had nothing to do besides waiting around anyway. Sometimes though, Wade would be pleasantly surprised when he wandered by the sea and Peter would come up to meet him.

It made Wade wonder, though, where would this relationship with Peter go? Rough, animalistic intercourses and random flings were all he knew, with whatever wench he could find at wherever the ship docked. There had never been any emotion attached. He only ever wanted the relief of fleshy delight. Nobody ever could look at Wade’s ugly mug for long, much less during sex, so unless Wade wanted vomit all over him when he got it on, blindfold or doggy style was the way to go. A fuck was a fuck, slot A to slot B, and sometimes it could get _violent,_ depending on the mood at hand.

But then there was Peter.

Putting Peter and such thoughts together felt like a sin by itself. The voices were aghast when Wade found himself content to not make any move, to just basking in the close proximity and attention. Peter was too good for him, even the boxes had to agree. Peter, who was pure and lovely and important (both to Wade and to Peter’s own people), who never batted an eyelash at how ruined Wade was. Peter, who thought that Wade was the most fascinated person he had ever met. Peter, who, despite being so important and revered among his people, was ever so lonely.

“I…I know it’s bad, but sometimes, I just wish I wasn’t what I am.” Peter confessed to Wade on a late night, when they lounged on the cooling sand and waited for the stars to appear, “People only know me as an Oracle and not, well, _me_. When I pass and pass I shall, I will be just another name. Carved on stone, but someone no-one will miss.”

The sadness in his melodic voice reared up the beast in Wade, who plundered and destroyed. He wanted to murder and castrate the assholes that made Peter feel like this, like he was only wanted because what he was born to become. But that wouldn’t be what baby boy wanted. So he offered comfort and company, awkwardly so because it was not something that Wade had ever done before. But Peter took it, albeit surprised, because other than his Aunt, nobody had ever offered him closure. 

            There was such irony in this and, sometimes, when Wade was alone with only the boxes to occupy his thoughts, he would laugh deliriously. He must have gone mad, he must have, because there was no way in hell Peter would want something like him. And yet, the longer he spent time around Peter, the less the boxes were inclined to speak. Honestly, that scared Wade a little, because now there were times that his mind was in complete clarity, even when Peter wasn’t nearby. The silence szs blissful, but now without the pain of death, and Wade was at loss of what to do, because he hadn’t been like this since…well,  _ that day _ .

“A long time ago, I slept with the wife of a God.” Wade said simply one day, when they were sitting together at a beautiful hidden grotto. Peter listened in quiet attentiveness, never once lifted his gaze from Wade or interrupted the man, “It was out of a stupid challenge and I didn’t even know who she was. Long story short, I am cursed to live forever, so I will be impervious to the wheels of time and bury every single person that I loved, unable to move on. Jokes on him, I have no loved one. So he drove me mad instead. Massacred the entire town I was born into. I was no angel then, but I was _decent_. When the blood haze lifted, the deed was already done. Became a pirate since then.”

To think of it, his time on the _Deadpool_ had been a haze. He endured the abuse of the former Captain for a time because he thought he deserved it, got fed up, killed said Captain, took on the reign of the ship by himself, travelled and raided everywhere he wished, sometimes just for the hell of it. Wade ưas not a good person, not by a long shot and _he knew this_. He even told Peter so, on a number of occasions. And never once had the merman shied away, only seemed thoughtful after Wade’s rant.

“It is in the past. I am no Seer, so I cannot tell what your future will be, but as of now, you are not this hideous, blood-thirsty monster you painted yourself to be. When I look at you, I only see a man bearing a heavy burden. Right now, in the present, you are no more evil than I am.”

Wade was speechless. He couldn’t tell whether Peter had the heart of a saint or just plain naïve. Perhaps both, and Wade did the first thing that came to his mind that night, leaning in and capturing those glistening lips with a kiss. 

            Wade was a pirate. Always had and always would be. He only knew how to take, yet the kiss was tender, a mere brush against tempting flesh. It was enough to make him feel like an absolute scum, more so than ever because, even to someone that he treasured so much, Wade only knew to fulfill his impulses. Yet, when he made to pull away and possibly flee out of shame, Peter’s webbed-hand was at the nape of his neck, holding Wade in place so that their foreheads touched, and Wade’s heart stopped in a painful stutter.

“What did you just do?” That whispering, beautiful voice was so close, his breath tickled Wade's skin. Peter’s smile was small, but not unnoticeable, and his eyes shone brighter than the stars above. It was pathetic of him, but Wade let out a keening, desperate whine, and his already too-blue eyes were dark with want and sadness.

Peter’s attempt to kiss was clumsy, his plush lips sliding against Wade’s and ended up smooching just under Wade’s nose instead, until the pirate gathered enough wits to slot their mouths more comfortably together. With one hand, Wade threaded his calloused, scarred fingers against those heavenly soft locks and the other gripping onto his own thigh painfully, a hopeless way to keep himself from tearing into Peter.

Wade didn’t know how, nor did he care, they ended up in this position, with Wade’s lying on the sand and Peter atop him, long tail curling around thick legs as they clung onto each other, kissing as if the world would end if they stopped. Wade’s hand had long given up trying to give himself bruises, instead content to feel up and down Peter’s body, from his smooth skin to sharp, fine scales that were pressed tightly against him. Peter’s hands framed Wade’s face, slender thumbs rubbing gentle circles onto Wade’s cheekbones. His golden-brown eyes were shadowed in a fan of long lashes, stroking Wade’s skin as they fluttered. And then Peter ceased, but only to look down into Wade’s eyes, and giggled like he was a mere child, moved in to hug Wade close, coiling against the broad chest.

At that moment, for the first time since forever, Wade felt _alive_.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I feel like writing this fic is a bit out of my elements? I dunno if I'm really happy with it or not, and feel like I shouldn't continue. Yeah, I'm indecisive >.>;  
> I do have an idea of what will happen should I decide to continue, but again, I dunno >.>; Kinda feel like a flop...  
> What do you guys think?  
> Comments make this girl happy :3 Or come say hi on Tumblr: http://neikarasu.tumblr.com/


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